"Another sad being has come." A sorrowful voice rang throughout the surrounding ruins, firm and grieving. Ohm, the priest of Enel, sat upon the furry head of his trained canine companion. He was surrounded by bodies, pitiful creatures who had been consumed by greed, miserable humans whom he had freed from their sin.
His was the Ordeal of Iron, the hardest test of them all – it had a survival rate of zero. Any who dared challenge the Ordeal died; none could survive, none could make it, none were stronger than the will of god Enel.
A sensory plate was triggered, barbed wire shooting from the ground in all directions, zeroing on the new challenger. It would be over soon, Ohm knew. It always was. No one lasted. They all fell to their humanity, to their pitiable desires.
"Ah. That's annoying. 's this stuff supposed to trap me or something?" The words came out in a sluggish drawl, the barbed wire falling uselessly to the ground around the unharmed challenger. Not even his white robe, nor his hakama, bore a scratch. The man had white hair, squinted eyes, and an eerily calm smile. His hands were covered lazily by his sleeves.
"What's this?" Ohm asked himself quietly. Holy, his giant dog, yipped his own confusion in response. The priest raised his voice, bald head glinting ominously in the sun. "Why do you prolong your own pain?"
"Don't really know what you're talking about," the newcomer hummed simply. "I ain't prolonging anything."
Ohm regarded him, frown turning dark lips down. "What is your name?"
"Ichimaru Gin, shinigami, former captain of the Soul Society. You'll not have heard of me." The fox-faced man, self-proclaimed shinigami, took a step forward. Where his foot should have landed, right atop another sensory plate, he was met with air. The man was walking on nothing, seeming too far at ease.
"Your titles won't matter soon," Ohm told him. "I will free you from worldly needs."
"Hm?" Gin's smile never faltered. "That's a nice dog ya've got there. I know a bigger mutt, though he's probably more uptight than yours. The dog I know can talk, so I suppose I shouldn't really compare 'em."
"Enough small talk, intruder."
Ohm took forth his Iron Cloud sword, the blade shooting forward faster than human eye could see. The trespasser had somehow survived this long, had somehow snuck his way into god's land without detection. He must die. Gin didn't appear to move but Ohm was sure of his aim – he had not missed. The challenger had somehow avoided his blade, had somehow moved.
"Nifty sword. I bet ya mine's faster."
"Arrogance is another fault of humanity," Ohm intoned. "Death will free you of that."
"I don't really have time for that. The man I work for gets impatient when I start playing." Gin's smile twisted apologetically, a mockingly polite move. His hands came into view, sleeves falling in the wind idly, and he reached lethargically toward his small sword. It was an unimpressive blade, in Ohm's opinion, a simple wakizashi.
Ohm's own blade morphed into a different form, Eisen's Whip, and he sighed at the pale man floating in the air before him. It was a cute trick, really, but Ohm was feeling his grief more and more; freeing this soul was something he must do, sooner than later.
Gin spoke, voice a mixture of boredom and amusement, an odd contradiction that left the priest feeling quisitive. "Shinso, shoot to kill."
The priest fell, judgment left ungiven.
"Told ya mine was faster."
Gin didn't waste any more time than he had. Aizen had been curious of the life they had found in this realm, had ordered Gin to investigate and as interesting as this all had been, he had more important things to be doing. His search for strong allies, new experimental subjects, had been so far unsuccessful.
